Getting Handsy
by Mindy35
Summary: CASKETT. Post-ep for "Once Upon a Crime". Title kinda says it all.


Title: Getting Handsy

Author: mindy35

Rating: a strong M, sexual situations people, you have been warned.

Disclaimer: Characters are not mine, no money made or infringement intended.

Spoilers: minor for "Cops and Robbers", "Cuffed", "An Embarrassment of Bitches", "Once Upon a Crime".

Pairing: Castle/Beckett

Summary: Post-ep for "Once Upon a Crime" (but not much to do with the ep aside from the last 3 seconds). Season 4 has been a lot about hands. I decided to take that one step further...

-x-x-x-x-

He finds her in his office, arms folded as she gazes out the windows at the city. Rolling down his sleeves after washing the dishes with Alexis, his fingers brush his own hand, the hand still bearing her invisible mark. Castle glances down at it, unable to shake the sensation of how Beckett's hand had touched his. And not just touched. She'd not just casually grazed his hand in a way that might later be construed as accidental. She'd _held_ his hand. The normally undemonstrative and self-contained Kate Beckett had picked up his hand and clasped it, and continued clasping it until her hand left his to applaud. Never in his life, not with any woman he'd known or cared for, had he had such a strong reaction to such a small gesture before. And he had to wonder whether his reaction, however well in check he managed to keep it, echoed her reaction to a similar gesture that occurred when he dropped off their short-term canine charge.

Neither of them had been expecting that awkward moment when he picked up her hand and started stroking it. He hadn't intended to elicit a response from her – but he had. Her face had betrayed some sort of response to it, to _him_, before she put an uncertain stop to the moment. And he'd wondered about it ever since. Wondered whether she'd felt anything like the insanely potent rush he did at that tiniest of touches, wondered what exactly she was going to say to him, if she was in fact going to stop him and how she might've reacted if he hadn't backed off so obediently. In the end, he put the whole thing down to the fact that they'd denied themselves any physical contact for so many years, making the slightest touch now seem so incredibly intense, so deliciously illicit and so startlingly, profoundly erotic.

Seeming to sense his silent scrutiny, Beckett turns, shooting an easy smile at him over her shoulder. Castle smiles in return, heading to the drinks tray for yet another scotch.

"Thinking deep thoughts?" he asks, showing her the bottle by way of an offer.

She shakes her head in reply, moving to his desk and picking up her champagne flute. Downing the final sip of bubbly and setting the glass aside, she leans against the end of the desk. "Just admiring the view."

"Well, Nikki Heat helps pay for it," he replies, pouring himself a drink and heading towards her. "So, by all means, enjoy." He leans against the desk beside her, gazing out at the crystal clear night and letting out a long sigh. The silence between them feels both comfortable and not, the dim stillness of his office making their solitude seem more pronounced than usual. "So. Did you enjoy the performance?" he feels compelled to ask, an underlying wryness to his tone that he knows she will not miss.

Beckett gives a little hum, smiling out at the city lights. "It was very….edifying."

"So I've been told," he grumbles, swirling the liquid in his glass.

Her eyes cut to him, running over his profile for a moment or two. "You know you're lucky, right?"

He looks across at her, brows drawn inwards. "_Lucky_?"

"Yeah," she says with a little laugh. "I mean, I know you like to complain about her but…your mom is fantastic."

Castle's spine straightens, his head bobs. "Well, if by 'fantastic' you mean bizarre and unbelievable then yes, I agree with you. She is…_fantastic_."

Beckett leans a little closer, bumping his shoulder with hers. "Come on, Castle, mothers are meant to exasperate, it's what they are put on this earth to do." Gaze dropping to the floor, her voice takes on a slightly distant quality. "But what I wouldn't give now to hear one of my mom's rants about the inadequacy of the justice system. Used to drive me and my dad nuts. Cos when you got her going, you couldn't stop her. She was literally unstoppable, like a force of nature."

"Like mother, like daughter," he comments quietly, eyes on her face.

Beckett lifts her head, her gaze meeting his in the low light. "You're lucky, Castle, you and your mom and Alexis have got something special here. You've got a home."

"Are you saying you don't have a home to go to?" he murmurs, shifting his butt a little closer on the desk. "Because you know I'd happily volunteer to share mine. We have plenty of room and I am not picky about tenant's references."

"I have an apartment," she tells him, resisting the urge to smile. "And it's a really nice apartment. But it's not the same thing. What you have is a real home. It's…" she pauses, gives a little shrug before admitting, "it's one the reasons I like coming here."

"Well, I'm glad," he says, turning to face her, placing his glass on the desktop. "That you like coming here." He smiles, lifting a hand and letting his thumb graze her jaw. "Because I like having you here."

Beckett smiles back, her gaze faltering just slightly, her lips parting at the fleeting caress. She doesn't say anything, she remains perfectly still as his hand pauses in mid-air before deciding to lift back to her face. It cups her jaw as Castle leans in, hesitates once then nudges her mouth with his. For a painfully protracted moment, she doesn't react at all. His heart seems to pause its thumping rhythm. Everything about the two of them just halts momentarily. Then her eyes flutter closed and her mouth responds with an almost imperceptible pressure. Both of them inhale sharply as their mouths soften, shifting to discover a deeper angle.

"Where'd that come from?" Beckett breathes when he pulls back.

"I don't know," he murmurs, face hovering close to hers, "but I'd like…"

She whispers a breathless, "yeah…" as he inches closer.

"…to do it again," he finishes before his mouth captures hers in a second, much more urgent kiss. Castle shuffles to face her, trapping her against the desk as his hands wind round her body and smooth up her back.

Her hands are less bold, taking up a position on his arms but gripping him tight as she kisses him back with equal enthusiasm. She releases a moan at the first graze of his tongue and holds on even tighter as he bends her back over the desk, delving deeper into their kiss. At which point, the door to the office swings open:

"Dad, Gram needs you, she— oh God!" Alexis turns away, standing half inside the door and half outside, now knowing whether to go or stay. "Sorry, so sorry…"

Her dad and his partner have yanked apart. Beckett turns her back, her wrist pressed to her mouth while Castle shifts from one foot to another, attempting to compose himself and concoct some semblance of intelligible speech.

"What, what, Gram is what now?" is all he comes up with.

"Stuck," Alexis mutters shortly. "On something. Needs your help. Sorry. Again, very sorry."

Castle watches his daughter flee from the doorframe then holds up a finger, his mouth dropping open before any words emerge. "Hold that thought," he tells Beckett. "_Don't_ _go anywhere_. Okay?" He waits until he gets a single nod from her before rushing from the room.

-x-

Beckett remains frozen in place, her breathing heavy. After a moment, her hand drops away from her mouth, she blinks a few times, swallows a few times. Then she takes a breath and starts to pace aimlessly about the suddenly claustrophobic space. She spots the drinks tray in one corner but quickly resolves that, judging by her recent actions, she's probably had a little too much alcohol already. More is not going to help clear her head. When she then catches sight of the lavish bed looming large in the adjacent room, she turns abruptly on her heel and stalks in the opposite direction.

Castle has been handsy with her all night. Not that she can blame him. She started it. She couldn't help herself though. The intimate performance for two and the creeping lassitude from the wine and the general warmth of his apartment, it all lulled her into a blissful state of unconcern. It beat going back to her place any day of the week. His had food. And heat that worked. And that comfy, roomy couch. And him, big and warm and so close next to her. She'd wanted to just melt right into him and never leave. Holding his hand had been her showing restraint, it was the least of what she wanted to do. And it wasn't exactly the first time she'd touched Castle's hand, or he hers. Any touch that occurred between them, however small or outwardly insignificant, caused unseen sparks to fly so none were ever forgettable. It was certainly the first time she'd dared touch him like that in a casual setting though, when no one's life was at risk, when there were no bombs or big cats in the immediate area, when there was no reason for it other than that she wanted to.

But maybe with that deceptively simple gesture she inadvertently opened the Pandora's Box of their potential relationship. Maybe Castle had taken the gesture as some sort of unspoken, long-withheld go-ahead from her. Because after she let go of his hand, it somehow dropped to her leg and rested there long enough to make her face heat. Later, when she offered to help him and Alexis in the kitchen, he quickly ushered her out with one warm palm nestled low on her back. And each time he refilled her glass, something he was very quick to do, he lightly cupped her elbow with one hand, a move that was completely unnecessary. And now this. She knows she's not ready for this, she knows _they_ are not ready for this. This is just not the time and they both know it. But while every thought in her head is telling her to flee and fast, every atom in her body wants to stay and see whether she can get more of what was so unceremoniously interrupted.

Delaying the decision, Beckett continues to pace, halting every so often to chew her lip. She's heading toward the door, perhaps to make a fast getaway or perhaps for no reason at all except that it's a direction, when Castle comes back through it, all urgency and uncertainty:

"Sorry, I—"

"Don't do that!" she spits, immediately beginning to back up again.

"Do what?" he says, continuing to move toward her. "Beckett—"

"What was it?" she asks, eyebrows knit as she retreats round his desk. "Your mom? What was she stuck on?"

"Nothing," he mutters, waving a hand behind him but keeping his eyes fixed on her. "Doesn't matter. Look, Kate—"

"You can't _do_ that, you can't…—and then walk away!" she practically yells at him, her backwards pace slowing enough that he can catch up and she can grab his shirt. "You can't just kiss me and—"

She doesn't finish, she's too busy kissing him, too busy clawing him closer. She's too busy falling in love with the feel of his hands on her body, with the way he touches her so perfectly, the way his touch does nothing to ease her want but only increases it. She's teetering backwards bit by bit, still unconsciously trying to put distance between herself and the thing she wants while simultaneously clutching it close, clutching him close. He shuffles along with her, feet eager and clumsy and mouth fused to hers, releasing a different flavor of moan with every twist and turn of their kiss.

Their inelegant slow-dance comes to an abrupt halt when her calves hit a big leather chair. She falls down into it, dragging him with her, hands still twisted in his shirt. His hands prop himself over her in the awkward position, his lips refusing to relinquish hers for even a millisecond. Both seem to realize at the same moment that the position they're in will not work for what they need. So they switch. Castle sits, pulling her onto him with a muffled but distinctly pleased groan. As soon as she is in position, straddling his lap, his hands lift to her hair, tunneling deep, stroking and searching through the golden strands.

"God, this hair," he mutters into their kiss, "How I've wanted _in_ this hair..."

"We shouldn't be doing this," she gasps as his mouth breaks from hers to kiss her neck. "We can't do this, Castle…"

"Gimme fifty good reasons why," he mumbles as his hands, twisted in her curls, tip her head to one side so he can nose his way around her turtleneck. "Then maybe, _maybe_, I will consider stopping."

She sighs, hungry hands feeling up his chest and relishing every inch of it. "Because," is the only answer she can come up with. She knows there are reasons. Really good reasons, really smart reasons. Thinking of them, however, is next to impossible. Because of his chest. And his hands. And the rest of him. "Uh. Because…" she repeats, hoping it sounds more convincing second time round.

"Wow," Castle murmurs, giving up on the obstacle of her turtleneck and instead kissing down her jaw. "Solid reasoning there, Detective. Not sure how I'm gonna refute that."

She captures his maddening mouth with hers, letting her lips open in invitation. An invitation his tongue accepts, entering to stroke hers in a way that makes her gasp for air. "Because…because we work together," she says against his gorgeous, gifted mouth.

Castle hums low in his throat. "We work _so well_ together."

"We're…partners," she adds, unable to resist sipping at his bottom lip.

"And we're such _good_ partners too," he grins, hands drifting up and down her back, fingertips tickling her spine. "So very, _very _good at…._partnering_."

"You can't just…" she moans and presses into his palms, seeking more contact. "You can't just invalidate everything I say by making it sound dirty, Castle."

"Oh, can't I?" he answers, giving his tone an overly obscene lilt. "And besides…I said _good _reasons. Fifty of 'em. Or just one. If you can think of one, that is." He punctuates his challenge by letting his hands venture down to her ass, tugging her closer so that her groin makes sudden contact with his.

She releases an uncontrolled, gut-deep groan, her head dropping to his shoulder in defeat. "I want you so badly," she whispers into the material of his shirt, breath puffing hot on his skin. "Just can't help it…"

"Well…" Castle gulps, mustering control over his voice as his hips shift restlessly beneath her, "surely that's more a reason for than against."

His hands lift her face, cupping her jaw as he gazes into her eyes for a moment. Then he draws her mouth to his and kisses her, this kiss slower but every bit as urgent as the others. When he feels her comply, arms winding round his neck, his hands move back to her body, clasping her close as he rises from the chair and heads towards his bed with a hasty step.

"What about your mother? And Alexis?" She lifts a brow at him as they enter the bedroom but doesn't make any attempt to extricate her body from his. "They're right in the next room. S'that a good enough reason for you?"

Castle eases her down to the bed, lowering his body after her and telling her with perfect sincerity, "Katherine Beckett, I could do this with you if every member of Congress was sitting out there sipping tea and discussing tax cuts." He faces her on the bed, eyes running up her body and glowing with equal parts lust and affection. "You have no idea how much I've wanted this. No idea how mad I have been driven by wanting you, day in and day out, and never so much as laying a finger on you."

She shifts onto her side, placing a palm on his chest before letting it skate slowly downwards. "I have some idea. I mean, I am a trained detective. And _this_," her hand curls over the bulge in his pants, "is a pretty big clue right here."

Castle pants under her bold touch, eyes closing over. "Think I should warn you. If you touch me there….things are…definitely gonna happen."

Beckett smiles, stroking him softly. "Things, huh?"

"When I get…" he opens his eyes to look at her, waves a vague hand, "…I get non-specific."

"Hm," she leans in to give his lips a lingering peck, "I think I like you non-specific."

Slowly, she begins to unfasten his belt. Castle's hand whips down to help, unzipping his jeans and guiding her hand inside. He groans as she cups him through his boxers, his hand withdrawing to rest on her hip. For a moment, she just watches as she strokes him, watches the passion passing across his face, the simultaneous satisfaction and tension in his features. Then she glances down at the hand resting on her hip, smiling as it budges gradually lower, fingers spreading wide and trying to cover as much of her as possible.

"Go ahead," she whispers, kissing the dint in his chin, letting her tongue dip into it. "Touch me. I want you to."

The words are barely out of her mouth before Castle is attacking her jeans with nibble, overzealous fingers. His hand is sliding inside her jeans before she's taken her next breath and it hitches as soon as his thick, warm fingers bypass her underwear and dive straight for her slick flesh. He shifts closer on the bed, watching her slide one leg up and over his hip, watching her lower body arch hungrily towards his touch.

"You're so wet," he murmurs, bursting and spreading the bubble of moisture at her core.

"What'd you expect?" she moans, squirming against his fingers.

"So warm and soft and wet," he mumbles, engrossed in the sensation of her. "I've dreamed of making you wet. Literally, dreamed about it. What it would take, how you'd feel, smell, sound when I did…"

"Well, wake up," she says, curling an arm around his head and letting her fingers dig through his hair. "Because this is happening. I can't believe it's happening but it's happening."

She draws him in and kisses him, tongue tangling with his as her hand begins to stroke him with the same rhythm his fingers are treating her to. She's so close already, with just the touch of him on her and her on him. It doesn't even occur to her that there may be more to experience than his hand. His hand is enough. His hand is so much. Especially when one thick finger eases inside her, ridding her brain of further thought. She throws her head back on the pillow, his name falling from her lips and her hand gripping him tighter. His mouth immediately descends her body, kissing at her curves through her clothes. With one hand trapped inside her and unwilling to relocate, Castle pauses, awkwardly using the other hand to pull up her turtleneck and tug down one half of her bra. His lips instantly latch onto her bared breast, tongue laving the mound and teeth scraping over the nipple.

That act, repeated with relish, combined with the vibration of his moans against her chest, the insistent grinding of his palm against her clit, the slow, savouring pumping of his finger and the insane amount of time she has wanted all those things from this man has her gasping and moaning in under a minute. What's more, the orgasm that is building inside her so precipitously has a quality to it she has never experienced before, not with any man. There's a satisfaction to it that isn't merely physical and yet, it is manifesting tangibly in every cell of her over-stimulated body, causing her to chant his name and let go of tiny fragments of her old, walled-up self. She's never felt anything like what he is making her feel, and he's making her feel it all without even properly removing her clothing. Her imagination can't help but jump ahead to how it might feel, how intense it will undoubtedly be, how on earth she might deal with actually being naked with this man, being made love to by his full body.

Utterly overwhelmed, her hand stills against him, just cupping his hardness as he continues to suckle her and pump her, now with two gentle but purposeful fingers. The heel of his hand grinds harder but slower against her clit, making her orgasm bloom so gradually that her mouth opens on a silent, awed scream before her inner walls finally collapse in on him. Castle lifts his head to watch, to witness her moan with each new and glorious spasm, only ducking his head every so often to draw out her pleasure by flicking her peaked nipple with his tongue. He manages to make it last longer than most of her orgasms, certainly any in recent memory – although this may also have something to do with the four years of foreplay they have put themselves through.

He is grinning when she opens her eyes. Leaning in to kiss her, he extracts his hand from her jeans and gently grips her waist with wet fingers. His hips pulse against her slack, inattentive hand while they kiss, searching for even the slightest hint of movement from her. After he pulls back, he holds her gaze, lifts his hand to his lips and sucks on the fingers that were inside her. And as he does, she feels him harden even more against her palm.

"Dreamed of that too," he whispers, his hand returning to her body and pushing down on her hip, urging her onto her back. "I knew you'd taste amazing. Like berries and sea water."

Beckett lifts her head from the pillow to kiss him, enjoying the rather proprietary taste of herself on his lips. Her hand resumes her steady caress of him but she suspects it is not enough now, not for either of them. So she reaches inside his boxers and draws him out into the open, her palm moving up and down the underside of his thick, silky cock. Castle groans, his kiss intensifying. He moves over her, one hand stroking her side, cupping her breast, slipping down the back of her jeans to urge her closer while his other arm holds his body over hers, fingers tangled happily in her hair. He seems uncertain as to which name to call her as he keeps going back and forth between the two the deeper into arousal he falls. Or perhaps he needs both, perhaps he is enthralled by both of her halves. He is making love to her Beckett aspect – the cop, partner and muse – and her Kate aspect – the woman, friend and lover.

It's the second name he calls her by just as he is about to come. He moves against her, unable to control the instinct to thrust into her fist. She releases him, pressing close so that the skin of his cock can slide against the slippery skin of her stomach. Her free hand frantically ferrets round in his clothing, venturing inside his shirt to claw at his back then down, shoving his jeans away so that she can squeeze one cheek of his ass. Her other hand is still in his hair, arm curled about his head, clasping him as close as she can get him. Castle gives a sharp cry and buries his face in her neck, finding some flesh to suck on hard enough to leave a mark. Thrusting against her stomach three times, he comes on her skin with her nails digging into his ass.

-x-

She holds him as they both come down, their breathing normalizing and their bodies slumping in dual relief. Through his post-orgasmic haze, he can feel her rifling through his hair with one hand while the other drifts over his sweat-slicked back. Both gestures are filled with affection, both communicate an odd familiarity and both, as simple as they are, send thrilled little tingles racing down his spine. Mostly because they are coming from Kate Beckett. It is Kate Beckett beneath him, Kate Beckett stroking him with hands that could easily kill a man twice his size. It is Kate Beckett who just gave him an incredible orgasm after allowing him to touch her until she climaxed in front of him, against his body, on his very own hand. It is her neck his breath is falling onto, her leg that is still curled loosely around him, her smell that will pervade his clothes for the rest of the evening and her heartbeat he can feel pulsing just beneath her skin. And that awe-inspiring fact makes every single thing about the moment they're caught in seem more satisfying, more significant and much, much more uncertain.

Castle kisses her neck one last time, loath as he is to leave it, then slowly pulls away. Drawing her bra back up over her breast, he rolls away to retrieve a box of tissues. Their eyes meet when he offers them to her but neither says a word. All of a sudden, it seems awkward to talk, it seems odd for him to touch her, too intimate for him to clean her up. So he averts his eyes and lets her do it, he gives her space to straighten her clothing and rearrange the tangle of her hair. He sits on the bed, back half turned to her, and makes himself decent. Once they are both properly dressed and the evidence of their recent recklessness has been thrown in the waste basket, Castle sinks back on the bed with a sigh.

Beckett is lying on her back, hands folded on her stomach, gazing up at the ceiling. He casts her a sideways glance, privately hazarding a guess at what might be going through her mind. Apart from the flush in her cheeks and the shock in her eyes, she looks much like her usual self. And though he has longed for years to share this sort of a moment with her, it's one of those times where their natural synchronicity seems to fail and he finds himself once again wondering if he will ever really solve the mystery of Kate Beckett. Keeping a careful distance between their bodies, Castle folds his hands on his stomach and gazes up at the ceiling as well.

"So. That happened," he murmurs eventually.

Beckett nods her head slowly. "Did it ever."

"Question is…" He turns his head to look at her.

She turns hers to look at him, completing their mutual thought. "…what now?"

_END._


End file.
